Efren the Elf

Efren was an elf. A plain old ordinary elf who made furniture.

He did not make much money from this profession, as most elves inherit furniture, but Efren didn’t care that he made so little. He was perfectly happy with his little house on the mountain with its beautiful view, and with using a horse and wagon to transport his furniture and the wood he used to make it.

One day while he was outside putting the final decorative touches on a chair, a messenger from the elf king approached him.

“Are you Efren, son of Alzan?” he asked.

“I am,” Efren answered, bowing as was appropriate to do to a royal messenger.

“I am Olfet, messenger of King Welin the Fifth. I come bearing orders from the King for you to stand in his presence tomorrow at noon.”

“Does the King require my services?”

“Indeed. That was the message in its entirety. I must now take my leave and bear tidings to others. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Efren replied, bowing once more.

Olfet left and Efren wondered what the King wanted as he turned back to the unfinished chair.

“I hope it is an order of furniture he wishes to give me,” he said, “Else I shall have to hunt for next week’s meals.”

The next day at the appointed time, Efren stood, or rather knelt, before the King.

“Rise, Efren, son of Alzan,” the King said. Efren obeyed and asked, “What is it that you wish of me, Sire?”

“It has come to my attention that there is an ogre causing trouble on the southern border. It would please me well if you would travel there and slay the ogre. In return I shall give you a great reward.”

“Your Majesty, I thank you for the offer, but I am just a poor woodworker. I have no experience in matters of this kind. Would it not be better to send some of your soldiers to do this task?”

“You are the son of Alzan, are you not?”

“Indeed I am, Sire.”

“Then according to my record books, your great-great grandsire was Orlen, who defeated the dragon of Wellshire, was he not?”

“He was and did, Sire. It is a matter of great pride in my family.”

“Well, four nights ago, an old woman stood in my presence and prophesied to me that only a young elf who had Orlen the Dragonslayer for an ancestor could defeat this ogre. You are the only one in your family who fits this description, therefore, you must be the one she spoke of. Do you accept the task?”

“I would, Sire, but you see, I have no sword, no armor, and no skill. The only thing I could do is give the ogre a stomach ache by being eaten.”

“If those are your only reasons, I will equip you and send with you a group of my finest warriors.”

“Well, in that case, I accept.”

Then there was a great bustle in the castle as the preparations took place. Efren was taken to get leather armor and a sword, servants were sent to tell the King’s best men to prepare for the journey the next day, and the cooks were all so busy packing food that dinner was a full hour late. The next morning Efren and the soldiers set out with the villagers cheering as they rode through the town.

During their ride that day, Efren found his companions to be quite untalkative. If he asked them a question, they would answer in as few words as possible. Once he started to sing a song and one of them asked him politely to stop.

So they continued on in silence and the next words spoken were, “We’ll stop here for the night.” They were also the last words spoken that day.

Since his fellow travelers were like this, Efren tried to find other ways to employ himself. At first he tried whittling, but it was very difficult to do because of the movement of his horse, and the others winced every time he scraped the wood. So he threw the wood away and tried drawing, which also failed, along with trying to write in his journal. As he had neglected to bring a book, he was left with nothing to do.

After lunch, when he had obviously been chewing far too loudly for the soldiers’ tastes, he asked, “My good friends, why are you so silent?”

“We have been cursed by a witch we recently fought with,” replied one, quietly, “She gave us such good hearing, that even the smallest noise is like a horn being blown right beside our ears.”

“Why did you not say so before? Then I would not have felt you were shunning me for some unknown reason.”

“We didn’t want you to think we were lying and just didn’t want you to talk.”

“Well, from now on, I shall endeavor to be as quiet as possible.”

“Thank you.”

So now Efren had found an occupation: to be silent in whatever he did. He became quite good at it too, and it was a useful skill to have.

They arrived in four days at the village on the southern border. The village was a sad sight to see: gardens were ravaged, houses had holes in their walls and roofs, stores were empty, and the people were shabbily dressed and sad. None of them looked up as the travelers rode down the street to find the governor’s house. They just kept their heads down and continued on their way.

Efren and the soldiers brought their horses into the governor’s stable and asked the stable boy to put them in stalls.

“I would, good sirs,” he replied, “If the ogre had not smashed holes in all the pens to get the horses out. You shall have to take them to the house across the road. The owners left the village after the ogre came, so now the villagers keep their horses there.”

So they took their horses into the house and left them there, then they went back to see the governor. As the governor was deaf and shouting would be necessary, Efren’s companions stayed in the entryway.

The governor was a human instead of an elf and how he became governor of an elf town I don’t know, but that’s not related to the story anyway. His name was Fellen Dorg, but I will call him Dorg. He was ninety years of age, nearly blind, couldn’t walk, and, as I mentioned before, couldn’t hear. Well, could barely hear, otherwise no one could speak with him, even by writing, as he couldn’t read because of his eyes. He was also a rather grumpy person and always had been, which is another reason why I can’t understand how he got his position.

When Efren entered the room where Dorg sat, the opening words the governor had recently started using were shouted at him: “If you’re here to complain about the ogre, I know and I can’t do anything about it. Good day.”

“I’m not here to complain, sir,” Efren said, bowing respectfully.

“Eh, what’s that?”

“I said, sir, I’m not here to complain,” Efren repeated, a little louder.

“Why are you whispering? I can’t hear you.”

So Efren said it again, and again, and again, until finally, one of the guards went up and shouted Efren’s words in Dorg’s ear.

“Oh,” he said, or rather yelled, “What do you want then?”

Efren told him that he was there with some soldiers to take care of the ogre. When Dorg had had this shouted in his ear, he said, “Why would you want to take care of it? If it’s sick, let it be. Maybe it’ll leave us alone.”

It took a few minutes to explain to Dorg that this was not what he meant, and that he wanted to get rid of it. After Dorg understood this, he told Efren he couldn’t possibly defeat the ogre, since all of his best men had tried and only one came back. (He only had two best men).

“Let my men and I try at least, sir,” Efren said, “We were sent by the King with orders to vanquish this beast.”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” Dorg said, “Why did you come to me anyway? It’s almost time for my afternoon nap.”

“I came to let you know what we would be doing, and I would also like to ask for food and bed for my friends and I.”

“Well, you can have them, but you won’t need them much. You’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, sir,” Efren said, bowing again, then going to whisper the news to the others. He decided he preferred people who could hear too well to people who couldn’t hear at all.

That night, Efren awoke to hear a crunching noise, screaming, and loud footfalls. Getting out of bed, he went over to his window and looked out. A large ugly ogre was walking down the street swinging a club with one arm, and carrying a cow under the other.

Efren hurriedly dressed and belted on his sword. Exiting his room, he found his companions standing there, stuffing cotton balls in their ears in an attempt to block out the noise. He gestured to them to follow him, and led them out of the governor’s house.

The ogre came nearer and nearer, swinging his club back and forth. Elf men stood their ground until the club came near, then jumped away.

Efren realized that he wouldn’t be able to attack from the front as long as the ogre had the club, so he tried to come up with a plan before the ogre got to them. Then he noticed a small lookout tower at the edge of the road, a couple hundred feet away from them.

Quickly, Efren acted. He ran down the street to the watchtower, followed by his friends, and climbed up. Drawing his sword, he stood on the tower wall and waited for the ogre. Once it was even with the tower, he jumped, holding the sword point down to pierce the ogre. The sword barely punctured its thick hide, but it still got its attention.

Efren fell flat on his back, his sword dropped a few feet away from him, and the ogre turned on him, dropping its cow and brandishing its club. Before it could hit him though, one of the King’s best men jumped from the tower, then another, then another, until all of them had jumped and each hit their target. The ogre yelled in pain and ran off.

Efren and the others followed, but kept to the shadows. They followed it for an hour before they finally came to its cave.

While the ogre sat down and began nursing its wounds, Efren led his companions into the trees and told them his plan.

They all, except one who went to the village to fetch some things, waited until morning when the ogre fell asleep, and then Efren crept to the mouth of the cave. He was very quiet, because he knew ogres were exceedingly light sleepers, especially when they haven’t had any dinner. The ogre was asleep in the back of the cave, wrapped in dirty bandages, and snoring.

Efren had already drawn his sword, and now he slowly entered the cave, hardly making any noise as he walked, and keeping his sword away from the walls and floor. He made it to the sleeping ogre and raised his sword to slay the beast, but his sword hit the ceiling and the ogre’s eyes snapped open and it grabbed its club.

Efren jumped out of the way and ran out of the cave and back into the woods. The ogre followed him, roaring in anger and snapping trees in half with its club. Efren led it to a clearing, nearly getting hit several times in the process.

Once in the clearing, he turned to face the ogre and whispered, “Now.”

Instantly, the ogre was hit by several arrows, which seemed to be shot by the trees themselves. Then the King’s soldiers jumped out, holding arrows to bows. The ogre started forward then stopped and fell over, dead.

One of the others went and got a horse and cart they had brought from the town and they loaded the ogre onto the cart and took it to the governor’s house.

Dorg was carried out and after staring at the ogre for a moment said, “What is that terrible smell, and why did you bring me out here to look at this lump?”

“Sir,” Efren said politely, “This, ‘lump,’ as you call it, is the ogre. We slew it this morning near its cave.”

“Eh?” Dorg said.

Efren’s fellows plugged their ears and backed away. Efren, with the help of a guard, managed to get Dorg to understand before lunch, and when they had he merely said, “Oh. It still looks like a lump to me. Well, good bye.” Then he went back inside and had the doors locked.

Efren and the others returned to the King and Efren was made a knight on the spot and given the title Sir Efren Ogreslayer, although he didn’t want it.

He went on many quests, defeating dragons, giants, ogres, and many other things, always with his trusty companions who helped him slay the first ogre. He also helped them with their hearing problem by sneaking up on the witch that had cursed them, and slaying her while she made a potion. And he vanquished the Werewolf of Flino, who had excellent hearing, with his ability to be quiet.

Governor Dorg died at a hundred and the stable boy replaced him. I don’t know how that came about—I think they just have a terrible election system in the southern village.

The End